


cold hands, warm heart

by Samsonet



Series: a friendly face [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Blind Marci Stahl, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:19:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsonet/pseuds/Samsonet
Summary: Looking back, Marci had to admit it made a surprising amount of sense that Matt Murdock was Daredevil. He and Foggy still had a lot of explaining to do.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s not that Marci _can’t_ rock the high heels. It’s just that stilettos are dangerous on the best of days, and Marci is not going to break her ankle while she’s still learning how to walk with a cane.

Her friend Demetria seems to grasp this intuitively, picking out a pair of flats and placing them in Marci’s hands. “These are the black ones with pearl buttons on them. I’m thinking black dress, white sash— it’ll go with your cane. Do you have any other sunglasses?”

“They’re, uh…” She opens one of her dresser drawers, feels around in it. “...somewhere around here.”

Demi laughs. “Just like college, huh?”

“Somehow, I remember _you_ being the messy one.” Even as she says it, though, Marci smiles. Their messy-roommate-neat-roommate dynamic was almost at the same level as Foggy and Matt’s, though with Matt it was because he was --

\-- blind, and needed the organization so as not to lose anything. Yes, she understands him better now.

“It’s too bad you’re blind now,” Demi says offhandedly, “because this dress makes me look _hot_.”

“I can see enough. Glitter green. It suits you.”

After some more discussion, she and Demi pick out an outfit: classy black with white accents, matching her glasses and cane. When they’re ready to leave, Demi takes Marci’s elbow and starts to pull her out.

“Wrong way,” Marci says, nudging off Demi’s hand. She changes their positions so _she_ is holding on to Demi’s arm. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

One thing about the Lawyers’ Society of New York: they know how to throw a party. The gala is set in a large conference center uptown; there are fairy lights strung up everywhere.

“Do you smell that?” Demi asks, making an exaggerated sound of licking her lips. “Horrs-devorrs!”

“It’s pronounced hors d’oeuvres,” Marci says, laughing. “Go on. Bring me something to drink. And if you see Foggy, let him know I’m here.”

Foggy’s voice rings out: “No need for that! Hey, Marci. Sorry I couldn’t walk you here.”

“He had to — help me with something,” Matt says. He’s holding on to Foggy’s elbow, and he doesn’t seem about to let go.

She has a vision of her life five years in the future: _Hi, I’m Marci, and this is my husband Foggy, and this is Foggy’s boyfriend Matt._

Well, at least they’re all hot.

“I’m glad you came. It’s not the kind of party you get invited to in Hell’s Kitchen, is it?”

The three of them talk. Foggy does most of it. He narrates what the people around them are doing, noting colors and details when Matt and Marci ask. He gets them drinks and they enjoy the fancy alcohol.

Marci thinks, _this is what your life could be like, Foggy._

If Foggy had been elected DA. If he had never left Landman & Zack. If he was as ruthless and ambitious as Marci herself was.

But then he wouldn’t be the Foggybear she loved, would he.

She doesn’t bring it up.

“You look great, by the way,” Foggy says.

“Demetria helped me match the outfit.” She turns to look for Demi, but doesn’t see her. No surprise there.

“Demi’s here? I don’t see her. Matt?”

Matt grins. “I don’t see her either.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Did she tell you where she was going, Marci? I want to say hi to her. It’s been a while.”

Matt says, “I —”

Then he tilts his head as though he’s heard something, and he starts to stutter. “F— Foggy, I—”

“Go,” Foggy murmurs, and Matt darts off.

“Wait. What’s going on?” Marci asks. “Where’s he going? Foggy?”

“It’s nothing,” Foggy says with a laugh. He puts his arm around Marci’s shoulders, starts leading her in the opposite direction Matt ran to. “Matt’s just being Matt, you know how he is, it’s nothing to worry about —”

Marci’s not buying it. She shakes off his arm, whirls around. (In the process, she whacks someone with her cane. When they look at her, _they’re_ the ones who apologize.)

“Marci, please, don’t go after him—”

That’s when Marci stops listening for him.

She crosses the room, moving around people with something like gracefulness, and reaches a back door. It opens into a cold grey alley. There’s a dumpster on one side, some blurry graffiti on the walls, but no sign of Matt or Demi.

She tells herself that Matt probably just freaked out at the unfamiliarity of the conference center and the delicate social etiquette of an uptown party. He probably just needed to get some fresh air, that’s all.

But if that was the case, why didn’t Matt or Foggy just say so?

She steps down the alley, one hand on the wall and the other holding her cane. “Murdock? If you’re out here, you’d better say something. You can’t just leave Foggy to cover for you all the time!”

Then she hears it: “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

“Demetria!”

Marci rushes forward, trying to focus on what she can hear. When she makes it to the mouth of the alley, she sees three figures. One is slumped against the wall — Marci recognizes Demi by her green-glitter dress.

The other two figures are fighting. Marci inches forward, eyeing them warily. She catches a flash of red… glasses?

That can’t be Matt.

Red glasses guy punches the stranger across the face. It’s a boxer’s punch. His stance is a boxer’s stance.

That _can’t_ be Matt.

Red glasses guy punches the stranger’s head. The stranger goes down and stays down.

That _can’t be Matt._

He asks, “Are you okay?” and _it can’t be Matt_ but _it is Matt_.

In that moment, Marci connects three truths at the same time:

One: Matt Murdock fights strangely well for someone who talks for a living.

Two: Being blind would be a good way to divert suspicions of, say, being a violent vigilante.

Three: During the time that Matt was gone, there were no reported sightings of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

It rings out loud and clear in Marci’s mind: _Matt is Daredevil._


	2. Chapter 2

From there, it’s like somebody else is steering her body. Marci grabs Demi’s hand, pulls her up and leads her back inside. Matt is somewhere behind them, gripping his cane like a club. They make it in. The guests gather around them. Somebody calls the police. What had been a glamorous party becomes a crime scene.

“I saw someone standing by the back door,” Demi says, clutching a glass of water. “I went to see if he needed something, but he — he pulled a gun on me, and dragged me outside, and then — then —”

Matt adds, “I was walking by the door when I heard a struggle. I got involved and managed to knock him out. I guess I got lucky.”

Which Marci knows isn’t the exact truth. She doesn’t say anything, though, instead simply keeping a firm hand on Foggy’s sleeve.

Matt was Daredevil. That was the thought that kept repeating in her mind, all pieces clicking together. Matt was Daredevil. Well, his dad had been a boxer, right? One of those down-to-earth, truth-justice-and-the-American-way types. It would make sense if Matt had taken on his father’s fighting skill and moral code. Matt being a violent vigilante would also explain why Foggy looked so uncomfortable whenever anyone mentioned devils in Hell’s Kitchen. His suicide attempt could be a result of that lifestyle, too: depression and fear from witnessing so much crime in his home neighborhood, perhaps.

Two months ago, Marci would have dismissed the thought entirely. Now, she was definitely sure. Just because Matt was blind didn’t mean he couldn’t kick ass — especially in the dark, where his blindness would give him an advantage over sighted criminals.

Now what to do with this information? As an officer of the court, she _should_ turn him in. As Foggy’s girlfriend (and fiancée?), there’s no way she was turning Matt over to anyone. She’s pretty sure “our close friend is secretly a costumed crimefighter” is one of those secrets couples keep when they’re getting serious.

At least she has plausible deniability.

When the police finished taking statements, Officer Mahoney takes Demi home. Matt sticks around Marci and Foggy. He seems to want to say something, but not to say it where Marci can hear.

_Well, too bad, Murdock._

“You’re welcome to come home with us, Matt,” she says. She uses her court voice, where a polite request holds a firm demand. Matt definitely recognizes it, because he gives a half-sigh and agrees.

They go to the new apartment. As they step inside, Matt’s jaw drops. It has to be different than what he’s used to, Marci muses. The suite is affordable with her and Foggy’s corporate lawyer salaries; for Matt, who probably took a oath of poverty when he got sworn to the bar, it’s hopelessly out of reach.

“You two — you rent this place?”

“We used to,” Foggy says. “After — well, while you were gone, Danny Rand bought it for us. He’s a wonderful client.”

More pieces fit into place. Danny Rand called himself the Immortal Iron Fist; it wasn’t that big a stretch to think that he and Daredevil were acquaintances. If Danny knew Daredevil’s secret identity, it would explain why the billionaire threw money at Foggy while Matt was gone. It wasn’t just one of Rand’s whims, it was a misguided attempt at comfort.

Matt laughs. “Danny. Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

“He’s one of the best clients at Hogarth and Associates. Though it’s Hogarth and _Associate_ now.” She gives a broad smile, then finds Matt’s arm. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Of course.”

She takes him to the guest room. “Matt, you care about Foggy, right?”

“...yes?”

“Then you should know,” she says in a low voice, “that after the Bulletin was attacked, Foggy asked me to marry him.”

Matt’s mouth makes an amusing sound as he opens and closes it repeatedly. Then he blurts out: “What.”

“You heard me. Ask him yourself. My point is, Foggy considers you part of his family. If I marry him, I’ll practically be your in-law. So, as your possible future in-law, I want you to know: I know you’re Daredevil.”

“Foggy told you.”

“Nope. I figured it out when you were fighting in the alley. Consider it your good luck, Murdock, because _I_ can keep a secret. Of course, this isn’t a kinky sex club kind of secret. This can have consequences. And if there’s anything else that might bring those consequences down on Foggy and me, you _will_ regret it. Now. Is there anything else I should know?”

Matt tilts his head, like he’s listening for something in another room. “Your friend, Demi, she was — she wasn’t attacked by coincidence. She was targeted.”

Now it’s Marci’s turn to say “What? How do you know?”

“I can — I hear things. You know, because I’m blind. I mean, because I’ve been blind since I was a kid, so my senses are — well, you get the idea. When I was near the door, I heard the mugger talking to someone else. He mentioned her by name.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Demi does trademark law. She doesn’t do anything worth targeting her for.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot we don’t know yet.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to ask our firm’s investigator to look into her.”

“Karen Page? Will she do it?”

“Yeah, she will. And Foggy’s listening in from outside the door,” Matt says.

Foggy opens the door and walks in, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to make sure you two weren’t going to kill each other.”

“Trust me, Foggybear, if I’m going to kill Murdock I’ll let you know.”


End file.
